


Of Different Worlds

by WritingIllusions (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Angst, Arlathan, Complicated Relationships, Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forbidden Love, Headcanon, Love Triangles, Tevinter Imperium, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/WritingIllusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn Trevelyan is the daughter of an Orlesian scholar and a Tevinter mother. When her father gets called to Orlais for research, Evelyn is left to run the family business on her own: <i>The King’s Rest</i>, a popular Tevinter inn and a frequent destination for Templar soldiers. </p><p>One night, Evelyn finds an unlikely intruder behind her tavern - a young, Elven child. In a land where Elves are hunted and persecuted, Evelyn must find a way to get the young girl back to the safety of Arlathan without arising suspicion. What she finds upon entering Arlathan is nothing she would have expected. </p><p>--<br/>AU, just making it up as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a while. It must come out before it drives me insane.
> 
> Pulling a lot from DA history and bending it to my will. Don't hurt me :x

The morning started off much like any other. Evelyn woke hours before the sun would show its first rays and began preparations for the day. Breads needed baking, cakes needed decorating, and the farm animals needed tending. Luckily, she was not left to suffer alone in these chores. 

“Good morning, Aiden,” she greeted the young boy upon entering the kitchen. Though he was only fourteen, Aiden was fairly tall and equally strong for his age despite his lean physique. Farm work kept him in shape well enough, she supposed. 

Locks of dark hair swayed against his fair face as he turned to look at her, green eyes alight with energy and eagerness. _Ah, to be young._ “Good morning, Miss Evelyn.”

“None of that now,” she chided and reached for one of the many bowls on the kitchen counter, “I’m not _that_ much older than you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He froze at the glare she shot him, his hands momentarily stalling the kneading of dough. “Err...sorry.”

Her glare broke into a smile and was soon followed by a fit of laughter. There was something endearing and amusing about his innocence and she could not bring herself to be upset at his insistance of formality between the two of them. Once she collected herself, she turned a serious eye to him and managed her most disappointed voice, “As punishment, you will go feed the hens and collect the eggs for this morning’s breakfast. Off you go.” She rushed him out of the kitchen, smiling as she watched him wipe the residue of flour on his clothes as he dashed out to his next chore. 

Aiden, the youngest son of farmer Markus Hammond and his wife Tilda, had been helping Evelyn run her family inn for almost a year now. The Hammond’s and the Trevelyan’s had been friends for many generations and when Evelyn’s father was called to Orlais for work, the inn fell into her young hands. Farmer Hammond was generous enough to offer his youngest son as help and, although she paid him for his time, Evelyn never felt like the exchange was quite fair. She imagined that the young lad would rather spend his youth doing more exciting things, like watching the Templars practice or go hunting with his older brothers. But if Aiden disliked spending his time tending to chickens and rolling dough, he did not show it and she was grateful for his jovial, the-glass-is-half-full personality. 

With a roll of her sleeves, Evelyn continued kneading the bread Aiden had been working on and felt at peace the moment her fingers sunk into the soft, silky dough. The art and love of baking was instilled into her at a very young age and she could still recall the first time her mother allowed her to help in the kitchen. She was eight at the time and had begged her mother to let her make the thumb print cookies. She’d watched her mother make her numerous times and they looked easy enough. After pleading with her for days and a short display of tears on her part - and a small nudge from her father - her mother relented. Although the cookies were not pretty, the jam had oozed out of some and others barely held any at all since her little thumb made a well too small for the strawberry spread, they were absolutely _delicious_. A hit with all the patrons and even her father, a man who detested sweets but somehow thought it wise to marry a baker with a sweet tooth, devoured seven that night. Yes, she had counted. 

Evelyn chuckled at the memory, but felt a pang tear at her heartstrings. Her mother had passed almost a decade ago, when she was only ten, but the memory of her was still painful. Evelyn had felt robbed of her childhood, of those precious mother-daughter moments and the wound had not yet healed. She wondered if it ever would. 

Willing her thoughts to the back of her mind, Evelyn focused on the dough before her and sighed as she realized she had another ten loaves to prepare just for breakfast. The patrons would come pouring in shortly after daybreak - usually Templar soldiers stopping in on their way to training.

\---

Evelyn had managed to get all eleven loaves baked in her giant masonry oven, a gift her father had given her mother when they first opened the inn. He had found the best architect and best craftsman to design and build the grand contraption so that her mother could bake her breads and cakes in abundance. And now Evelyn continued that tradition, baking and cooking daily meals for all the inn’s visitors. 

Aiden had made it back with a basket filled to the brim with fresh eggs. He had helped her prepare them: boiling some, scrambling others, and poaching the rest. He knew what the regulars liked. Evelyn had busied herself with preparing various spreads: strawberry, blueberry, blackberry, and the plain salted butter. As they finished their respective tasks, Evelyn wrapped a fresh loaf of bread in a clean kitchen towel and handed it to Aiden. She grabbed a jar of homemade strawberry butter, Tilda’s favorite, and extended it to him, “Give my regards to your parents and please tell your mother that I will stop by tomorrow to buy some milk.”

Aiden took the jar with a gleeful smile, “Yes, ma’am - I mean, Evelyn.” Before she could lecture him, the young boy ran out of the kitchen and into the main hall, bumping into a group of Templars that had just walked in. Evelyn shook her head with a smile and called out to the soldiers, “I’ll be right out!”

She grabbed her apron - her mother’s apron - and swung the strap over her head before tying the back with a sloppy bow. She sliced up several loaves and placed them in wooden bowls and proceeded to take two for the arrivals. 

\---

Cullen Rutherford had joined the Templar order twelve years ago and for as long as he could remember he had stopped by The King’s Rest with his recruits for some grub. Named in honor of the last King of Tevinter, who had spent the night here during many of his voyages, before Archon Darinius took power. Being that Darinius was a mage and now the ruler of the Tevinter Imperium, the Templars were not very well welcomed across the land but their presence could not be banished due to a long lasting treaty established well before it became the _Tevinter Imperium._ However, the King’s Rest remained welcoming as always and perhaps that - coupled with the delicious food - was why he and his men continued to eat here.

Though she had been but a child when he first met her, Cullen could not deny that Evelyn herself, now a woman with feminine hips and ample breasts, could partially be blamed for his daily comings and goings. She was no longer a child and he was still a man, unwed and not growing any younger. With their daily interactions it was unavoidable that he would grow fond of her and long for her. And he was sure she felt the same way, too, with the way her cheeks would flush with the most alluring shade of scarlet whenever he was near. 

“Good morning, fellas,” she greeted with a smile as she approached their table. She set down a bowl of bread, steam rising from between the slices and turned her attention to him, “Good morning, Commander Rutherford.”

He returned the sentiment, cracking a smile of his own as his amber eyes locked with depths of endless brown, sprinkled with the faintest specks of honey. “Cullen will do, Evelyn.” 

She nodded wordlessly and almost instantly that scarlet shade made its presence. He smirked but kept silent. “The usual?” she asked as her fingers nervously fidgeted around the rim of the other bowl she still held in her hand. The recruits answered with a mixed chant of “yes” and “please,” and added “my lady” quickly after catching the glare of their Commander. He may have been training killers, but they would be courteous killers with manners when it came to women. 

Finally her attention turned back to him and he simply nodded in response. She flashed them a smile before heading over to the next table, taking the orders from those regulars as well. Afterwards, she disappeared into the kitchen and emerged minutes later with plates of eggs and delectable fruit spreads, all balanced on a large serving tray. “Here we are,” she set the tray down, balancing it on the edge of the table with her thigh. It was hard not to notice and he quickly averted his eyes. She handed each of them a plate and finally set his down in front of him, catching his attention. “Salted butter and honey,” she announced happily, “per usual.” 

Her smile was contagious and he found himself returning the gesture as he reached of a slice of warm bread. “Thank you, Lady Trevelyan.”

“Please, you’ve known me since I was eight. _Evelyn will do_ , Cullen,” she threw his words back at him with a chuckle. She had often called him by his first name, mostly when his name came up during conversations with her father, but never publicly and certainly never in front of his men. It tasted weird on her tongue, not unpleasant but unfamiliar and she found herself growing hot at her forwardness. Perhaps that was a little too bold of her.

He snickered at her remark as he spread his butter over the bread and topped it with honey. “Forgive me, _Evelyn_. I shan't make the same mistake twice.” With that he took a bite of his food and winked at her, earning a few whistles from his men. 

\---

It was past midnight when Evelyn found herself cleaning the remains of the day and those that had checked in for the night were already fast asleep. The dining hall was clean and all that remained for her to do was clean the kitchen. 

Evelyn was exhausted. As she rinsed the last dish and set it aside, she could feel her eyes grow heavy. Most nights she was in bed by eleven but the Templars had come back to the inn around seven for celebrations. Something about a young Templar by the name of Rylen being promoted as Cullen’s first in command. They had ordered food; roasted ram, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a flowing river of mead. It was past eleven when they had left and they would have stayed longer she was sure, but she had asked them politely to retire for the night lest they wake all the patrons. 

Evelyn glanced around the kitchen one last time, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision, to make sure everything was in order. With approval, she blew out the candles that sat neatly in the corner of the counter and darkness welcomed her. She stumbled out of the kitchen, feeling her way through the corridor, and into the light of the dining hall. As she approached the back door to make sure it was locked, Evelyn heard rustling outside followed by the _clang_ of metal. 

She panicked, fear freezing her in place. Was someone out there? Was that just the wind, perhaps knocking something over? Despite rational thought, she took the light from the front desk, wrapping a trembling hand around the candle holder. With a breath of courage and no weapon to defend herself - although hot candle wax could be quite painful if thrown in the intruder’s face - she swung open the door leading out to the back of the tavern. Her eyes scanned the darkness, finding nothing amiss until her gaze landed on the open door of the shed. It was a small storage unit for various items, gardening tools and ingredients. 

_I’m out this far, no sense in turning back now_ , she told herself as she proceeded towards the shed with hesitant steps. With one last pep talk to herself, she pulled open the door and peered inside, letting her candle illuminate the contents. What she found was not only her flour, her barrels of beer, her rakes and sheers and other necessities in gardening. In the corner, huddled and shivering, was a small body with large blue eyes staring back at her with so much fear that Evelyn’s guard instantly crumbled. Her features softened and she took a steady step forward, extending her hand to the youngster. 

“Hey there,” she spoke softly as if her voice would scare the child further. “Are you lost?” There was no answer and Evelyn took another step forward, soon realizing why her unexpected guest was so quiet. Large, pointy ears were staring back at her and she felt another wave of anxiety wash over her.

_The child was Elven._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is 12 years older than Evelyn in this fic. He is currently 32 and she is 20. ^.^

If the Elven child was frightened, Evelyn was petrified. Her mind raced between thoughts: _how did the child get here, it was at least a two days walk to the border of Arlathan, was she being chased, where were the rest of her people, surely she could not have been wandering alone, what if someone sees her-_

At the last thought Evelyn extended a shaky hand to the child. She could collect her thoughts later, but for now the most important thing was getting the Elven child inside and away from prying eyes. “Come,” she said softly but the child cowered further into the corner. Evelyn raked her mind for any Elven that she knew and her father, a figure of authority on various dialects, would have been disappointed at her fumbling state. “ _Andaran atish’an_.” Yes, that was their customary greeting….right? “ _Hamin_ ,” she remembered that word for her father had used it every time Evelyn got frustrated with her lessons, but she was reaching the extent of her Elven knowledge at a rapid pace. “Come inside,” she began in common tongue, hoping that her smile would convey the safety that her words could not, “please. You’ll be safe inside, I promise. _Eth_.” Was that the word for safe? 

The child did not move and the hollow feeling of dread did not dissipate from Evelyn’s gut. Every second that ticked by was an opportunity for someone - perhaps the noise had woken one of the patrons - to find them. “ _Please,_ ” Evelyn tried again, her voice desperate and pleading. Her arm was growing tired and her heart was racing. Slowly and with great hesitation, the little body shifted from the corner. Knees that had been pulled to her chest and locked by frail arms were released as the young girl gradually rose to her feet. At her full height, the child only came to Evelyn’s chest and she guessed the girl to be somewhere between ten and thirteen. _Too young to be wandering alone and getting lost in the enemy’s territory._

Time stretched as the child took calculated steps, blue eyes darting in trepidation as if expecting Evelyn to turn on her and pull a dagger from her apron. When no such dagger was produced, the young girl crossed the shed in two, fast strides and placed a frigid hand in Evelyn’s palm. “Maker, you’re freezing!” The girl seemed startled at Evelyn’s sudden rise in voice and pulled back, but Evelyn squeezed her hand gently. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot you don’t understand me. Come, let us go inside and get you some food and blankets.” Although she knew the child could not understand her, Evelyn felt the need to voice her intentions if only for her own sake. 

Evelyn gently tugged on the girl’s arm as she proceeded back inside, peering around the corners and up into the windows to make sure that no one saw them. She wondered if her father had left his book on translation of Elven, but that would be too convenient. She would have to search for it nevertheless. 

\---

She managed to get the girl inside and rushed the child to her room on the second floor. She left her there for a few minutes and returned with a bowl of hot ram stew, bread and a blanket. She set the bowl and bread down on her nightstand and turned to wrap the blanket around the girl’s shoulders. She was sitting at the edge of Evelyn’s bed, shivering and shaking. Evelyn wondered if that was from the cold or from fear. Perhaps a combination of the two. 

“Here,” she picked up the bowl and bread again and handed it to the child, “eat. You must be hungry.”

Luckily, the sight of food seemed to be a universal message for “eat.” Without delay, the young girl picked up her spoon and began to shove heaping spoonfuls of meat and potatoes into her mouth, stopping only to bite off a piece of bread. Evelyn chuckled, “Slow down, there is more where that came from.” The child stared blankly at her and continued in her ravenous eating, obviously oblivious to what Evelyn was saying. “Right, keep forgetting that part.”

She tried her best to demonstrate the word “stay” to the child without trying to sound or look like she was talking to a dog. When she was sure her message got through, Evelyn proceeded down the hall to her father’s room in search of his Elven translations. 

\---

She spent half an hour looking for the damn book and it seemed to be in vain. The book was nowhere to be found. Evelyn’s patience was thinning and her frustration was growing. “Of course the damn book is not here,” she huffed to herself as she returned to her room. Upon entering, she half expected to find the room empty but to her great relief a small body was curled up on her bed. In her sleep, the child looked peaceful and void of any fear and Evelyn wished she could truly make her safe by returning her to her people. She shuddered at the thought of what might happen to the young girl if anyone found her.

She pulled more blankets over the tiny body and made herself comfortable on the ottoman in the corner of the room. She wrapped one of her wool shawls around herself and propped her back and head up against the wall, searching for the most comfortable position that would allow her to get some sort of sleep. She wasn’t sure when her thoughts had subsided or when sleep had finally taken over her body, but before she knew it Evelyn found herself waking up to gentle shakes of her arm.

Groggily she peered through one eye, trying to piece together what was going on. Why was she not in her bed? Who was this young, blonde-haired Elven child waking her? Who was that knocking at her door? Wait, _Elven child?_

Almost instantly the events from the previous night came rushing back and Evelyn rose to her feet in great haste. The knocks on her door persisted, “Evelyn? Are you there?” She knew that voice. “Evelyn? By the Maker, I will break down this door if you do not tell me you are all right.”

“Just a minute, Commander!” she called back while rushing to hide the child. Closet! That was her safest bet. She quickly ushered the child inside, held her index finger to her lips to signal the girl to be quiet, and promptly closed the door - but left a small gap for a sliver of daylight to peek through. 

She rushed over to the door, combing through her messy hair in an attempt to look slightly better than disheveled. The door creaked open and she smiled brightly up at those familiar amber eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked the moment he took in her features. “Aiden said he tried to wake you by banging on the door.”

“Oh, forgive me. I did not mean to worry anyone. Just exhausted from working late last night.” She stepped closer to the frame and pulled the door tightly behind her, obstructing the Commander’s curious gaze into her room. “What time is it?” Realization finally dawned on her. Cullen was usually here around seven every morning…

As if he was voicing her worst nightmare, the Commander spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s past seven, Evelyn.”

Her brown eyes nearly popped out of her head and her mouth hung slightly agape. “Oh, no. The bread! The hens! The customers!” Frenzy quickly took over her body and she quickly pushed Cullen from her room. His chest was rock solid against her hand and if she had been in the right state of mind, Evelyn would have blushed at the contact. But she was far from the right state of mind. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I have to get ready. I can’t believe I overslept!” Without another word, she shut the door and Cullen could hear the rustling of clothes as she undressed with haste. 

\---

“Aiden, I owe you my life!” 

“Ah, it was nothing, Miss Evelyn.”

“Just Evelyn,” she corrected, “and it’s not _nothing_! How did you do all this by yourself?” Her eyes scanned the loaves of bread scattered across the kitchen island. Sure, there weren't eleven but six were better than none. The eggs sat in their basket near the stove and two giant pitchers of milk were close by. 

Aiden shrugged, “I've had a great teacher.” His lips spread into a wide grin and Evelyn couldn't help but smile back. “Mother said not to worry about paying for the milk. She said to take it as a ‘thank you’ for the daily bread.” 

She pulled him into a tight embrace as one would hug their brother and quickly pulled back to turn her attention to the eggs. “Thank you so much for this, Aiden. Truly, I owe you one.” 

“Don't worry about it, Mis-Evelyn.” He ran a nervous hand through his black locks, scratching the back of his neck as he continued to grin back at her. “Sorry. Let me get the eggs.”

She moved aside as the young man took over and began preparing the eggs. “Right,” she said more to herself. When had this young boy become such a gentleman, so well mannered and considerate? “You're going to break a lot of hearts one day.” At that Aiden simply grinned wider, if at all possible, and continued to cook the eggs. Being an only child left Evelyn wondering what it would have been like to have siblings and she imagined it might have been something like this. But with slightly more shoving and fighting. 

“I'll get the jams,” she announced.

\---

Evelyn had served the morning regulars their usual meal and Cullen had watched her intently, studying her every move. She looked exhausted and he couldn't help but feel that he and his party from last night were to blame. _I should apologize,_ he thought to himself as they finished their meal. One by one they began to stand, stretching and taking one last swing of tea before proceeding outside. Cullen stood as well and turned to Rylen.

“Wait for me outside.”

“Ser.” 

They filtered out of the tavern and Cullen turned his attention to the kitchen. He found her leaning on the counter, both hands grasping the edges and her head hung low. “Evelyn?”

At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up and loose curls of brown hair swayed across her face. She quickly brushed them away and gave him her best attempt at a genuine smile. “Cullen,” it was clear by her tone that she had not expected him, “hi, um, sorry.” She was nervous. 

“Are you alright?” He crossed the distance that was separating them and stood before her, amber eyes piercing through depths of dark brown. “I'm sorry if we kept you up late last night. We should not have stayed so long.”

“Don't be silly, Commander. You and your men are always welcome here. I just had a hard time falling asleep, is all.”

“I thought I told you to call me Cullen.” He stepped even closer and she caught a whiff of his scent. Musky, woodsy, and pleasant. Her heart began to race at their proximity and she found the strength to step back slightly, lest she collapsed in his arms. 

“I'm sorry-”

“Don't be.”

She swallowed hard at the tone his voice had taken; deep, sensual and husky. She was a nervous wreck at the sheer sight of him but to be this close to him with their breaths practically mingling had rendered her all but incompetent. Surely he knew the affect he had on her. Surely he knew she had had a crush on him since she was eight, since the first time she saw the young, dashing, handsome Templar walk through that tavern door. 

“Evelyn,” her name rolled off his tongue like honey and her heart fluttered at the sound, “I must confess something.” It was time to tell her, to ask her for her hand in marriage. He had not given her much thought until recently, specifically until two years ago when she turned eighteen. He was twelve years older than her and when they first met she was but a child. Now she was a woman and he had become rather fond of her and had a good inclination that she felt the same. 

“I think you know how I feel about you,” he began when he received no response from her. His keen eyes caught the shiver that ran down to her hands and she quickly tried to busy them with the hem of her apron. His gaze turned back to her face, his eyes searching hers. “I've watched you grow from a young and curious little girl who looked at the world with wonder through big, brown eyes to a hard-working, intelligent and beautiful young woman. You've caught the eye and heart of this Templar.” 

As he spoke, his hands found hers and intertwined their fingers. “I've already asked your father and he has given me his blessings. Evelyn,” his voice grew solemn and his eyes darkened with earnest, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

The words echoed in her head even as she stood frozen in place. She had known that this revelation of his might come one day. Her father often spoke of him and how he fancied her, but Evelyn brushed it off as one of her father’s delusions - although she wished nothing more than for them to be true. She may have even prepared herself for this moment, wondered how she would respond to him if he ever did ask. It was never a matter of if she would say yes, just a matter of _how_ she would say it. She had imagined how she would feel, how happy and over the moon she would be. 

But now, as those words hung in the air, she couldn't think about anything but the scared, young child hiding in her room. 

“Evelyn?” His concerned voice pulled her from her trance and she blinked up at him. 

_What is wrong with you, stupid? You've wanted nothing more than to hear those words - answer him!_

“I…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...does she say yes? >;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Italics speech indicates Elven whenever the child speaks - or any other Elf for that matter._
> 
> I wish I knew enough to piece together the language myself, but knowing me I'll just jumble it all up and ruin the beauty of it. And there will be a lot more Elven in coming chapters, so I figured this would be easier on everyone (mostly me). ^.^

She stuttered in her reply. She shouldn’t have - her answer had been set for years for this occasion should it ever arise - yet she could not bring herself to form the words. Her eyes darted between his, her lips slightly parted as she soundlessly took in steady breaths. 

“You’re hesitating,” he observed. “Do you not…” His voice trailed and she shook her head, squeezing his large hands with her gentle ones. 

“No, Cullen, I did - I mean _I do_ ,” she stammered. She took another deep breath in to calm herself, exhaling and expelling her nervous fidgeting. “I do, Cullen, but...I do not want to leave my mother’s tavern. And I fear with all the time that I devote to this place I would be a poor choice for a wife.” 

His soft chuckle brought her gaze to meet his and she watched as the scar on his upper lip twisted into a smirk. “Is that what has you so nervous?”

It was not a lie, not entirely. Evelyn was not ready to leave behind the tavern her mother had started and she doubted that she would ever be ready to let it go. Her time was spent working the kitchens hours before sunrise and well after the sun had set, and she knew any desires of having a family drowned down with the sun each night. It was either one or the other, she could not have both.

But what had her on edge today was something else completely and the Commander did not need to know. Instead, Evelyn merely nodded in response and Cullen brought up one hand to her cheek, stroking her soft skin with calloused fingers. “I would never ask you to leave your mother’s tavern for a life with me, Evelyn.” His voice was soothing and she allowed his words to ease her mind. “We can build a life together and the tavern can be as much a part of our lives as it is now. We can hire you some help to ease some of the stress off you. I’m sure Rosalie would love to come help out in the kitchen or take care of any nieces and nephews that may come along.” 

She smiled at the mental imagine, wondering if their unborn children would have the same eyes as him. With his other hand that still held onto hers, Cullen brought the back of her palm to his lips, letting a kiss linger longer than it needed as those beautiful amber eyes pierced through her. They were alight with hope and excitement at the prospect of her answer and their future together, and Evelyn wanted nothing more than to wake up to those alluring eyes and that beautiful, crooked smile. “Yes, Cullen,” his lips broke into a grin against her palm at her answer, “ _yes,_ I would love to be your wife.”

\---

Perhaps it was not the best idea to start her engagement by lying to her fiancé, but Evelyn could hardly tell him _”darling, I’m going to ride through the woods and into Arlathan to make sure this Elven child gets back home safe.”_ Although she wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to ask him for help in escorting said child back home, she knew it was unwise. Cullen was kind, considerate, and had always been nothing but a gentleman towards her. But he was also devoted to the Order to a fault and she knew his devotion would send the young girl straight to Minrathous for sentencing - and if the child was lucky she would receive death. Elves were not allowed on Tevinter soil and humans were not allowed near Arlathan. It was a treaty set in stone almost a century ago. Any human or Elf that ventured into enemy territory was fair game. The few that were lucky died at the hands of their captors, but there were those who were forced to endure a lifetime of slavery, torment and punishment. Sex-trafficking of Elven women was particularly popular among some Tevinter Nobles. 

Evelyn knew Cullen would never subject a child willingly to such a fate and she knew he would argue that the authorities would simply charge the child with trespassing and allow her to return home. But she was not so naive to believe every word that dripped from a Magister’s mouth. She would personally see to the child’s safety as the Maker had tasked her with this. Why else would he have sent a defenseless child to her if not to protect her?

She knew what had to be done. They would leave tonight, under the cover of darkness, and ride horseback through the thick forest between Tevinter and Arlathan. It wasn’t the safest idea, but better than being spotted by Templars on the open road. 

“Miss Mae,” Evelyn called out to an elderly woman. Mae was a regular at the inn and Evelyn was beginning to think it served the old woman almost as a retirement center. She was Ferelden by birth and quite wealthy from the rumors that surrounded her. Mae was constantly back and forth between her home in Ferelden and visiting her grandchildren in Antiva. The King’s Rest was one of the elderly woman’s rest stops, as it were. “I have an errand to run. I’ll be back shortly. Can you watch the desk for me?”

Though she was well into her seventies, Miss Mae moved with the grace and poise of a twenty year old. “Running off with that dashing Templar, I hope?” Nevertheless, Miss Mae rose from her seat at the window and proceeded to the front desk with a smile.

The remark made Evelyn blush. “No, nothing like that! I have to run over to the Hammond Farm. Don’t tease me, Miss Mae.” 

“You remind me very much of my daughter, Evelyn. Have I told you that? She was just as shy and timid as you.”

“Was?” Evelyn knew Miss Mae had three children, but never heard of any of them passing away.

“Yes. _Was_. But then she married an Orlesian snob and became quite the self-assured, conniving bitch that she is. Gets it from her mother, I suppose,” Mae added with a wink. “Do find yourself a man that will toughen up that exterior of yours, my dear.”

Evelyn shook her head with a light snicker, “Miss Mae, I’m going to miss you,”

“I’m not dying tomorrow, child. Stop with the sentimentalism.” 

“No - I meant when you leave for Ferelden tomorrow.” Evelyn sighed in defeat. There was no use in exchanging words with the older woman. She was set in her ways, and her ways were _always right_. 

\---

It was settled. Evelyn had gone over to the Hammond’s farm and procured one of the farmer’s horses, feeding him some story about having to travel to Antiva to pick up something important for her father. Tilda was happy to offer her assistance in running the tavern in Evelyn’s absence. She assured them that she would not be gone longer than three days, if luck and good weather were on her side. 

Now Evelyn paced back and forth in her room as the little girl sat on her bed, a bowl of porridge sitting neatly in her lap. She ate quietly and with much more grace and self-control this time, her blue eyes swaying back and forth as they followed Evelyn’s movements. 

“Alright, we will leave in an hour or so. Everyone is usually asleep by then,” she chewed nervously on her nail. “We can’t take the main road, there will be Templar soldiers stationed there for sure. The forest is our safest bet. We will head northeast then until we hit Marothius. There is an inn there that my father frequently stopped at on his travels to Antiva. I think I still remember how to get there…”

She wasn’t sure who she was speaking to because she knew the young girl did not understand a word that came out of her mouth. Evelyn finally stopped pacing and turned to make her way to her closet. She pulled out a medium-sized satchel and began stuffing necessities into the brown leather bag: extra set of clothes, undergarments, small bottles of shampoo, and other female items. With everything packed, Evelyn pulled out one of her cotton wraps and proceeded to wrap it around the child’s face and shoulders, making sure to tuck her ears down and under a bed of blonde hair. 

“Sorry,” she offered when the girl winced, “we have to make sure not to arise suspicion should anyone catch us. I’ll tell them you are my niece, visiting me for a short while, and we were just heading to Antiva to take you back home. Does that sound good?” No reply except the blank stare of the ocean depths. “Right, sounds good to me, too. Are you ready to go home? Ar… _Arla_?” Forming properly structured sentences was out of her grasp, but Evelyn was proud she retained some of the everyday words from her lessons. 

The moment the word _home_ left her mouth, the child’s eyes lit up and she jumped, almost sending the contents of her bowl flying. “Woah, easy there,” Evelyn quickly took hold of the bowl and moved it out of the way. She knelt down in front of the little girl, “You’re more than ready to go home, I see. Can’t say I blame you.”

The little girl’s excitement at the prospect of going home was a much welcomed change from her gloomy, sullen and fearful expression. For the first time, the young girl opened her mouth but Evelyn could not make out the words. _”Take me home! I want to go home, please.”_ Her eyes pleaded and she clasped her little hands around Evelyn’s, holding her attention as the older woman tried to make out some of the Elven dialect. 

She knew the word _home_ well enough and nodded, “Yes, home. We are taking you home.”

\---

Evelyn’s heart was racing as she pulled the farmer’s horse from the stables. The tavern had many visitors from across Thedas who frequently stopped in with their horses, weary from traveling for work or for trade. The stables were a recent addition to the inn, a much welcomed one by said travelers. Evelyn tried to steer Merry from his corner, pulling on his reins and trying her damndest not to frighten the other horses, lest they alert their masters. Luckily, she managed to succeed. 

She patted the top of Merry’s saddle, “Come, hop on.” The young girl wasted no time and quickly straddled the majestic beast with little assistance. Evelyn followed suit, slinging her satchel over her shoulder before mounting the dark-maned creature. She settled behind the child’s lithe body and pulled her close against her chest as she took the reins. 

“Maker watch over us.” With that, they set off into the thick of the forest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll...I found heaven. It has been hiding in half gallon containers of Blue Bell Pistachio Almond ice cream. 
> 
>  
> 
> A little more on the travels of our brave Trevelyan and her little companion. I have a feeling the Wolf lurks nearby...

They rode in silence for hours. Evelyn would have thought the little girl had fallen asleep if it weren’t for the few times her little hands would tighten around Evelyn’s. The child had not made a single noise and barely had moved at all, stiff and silent as a rock as they galloped past trees and bushes. The main road was not far from them and Evelyn made sure to keep to it, using the road as her path and guide to Marothius. She was sure they were nearing the city and the inn was just on the outskirts of the city limits. 

She slowed the horse to a steady trot and for the first time that night the child turned to look up at her, confusion coloring her porcelain face. “We need some rest,” she answered but knew it was in vain, “and food. Are you hungry?”

She was met with silence as the child’s focus turned back to the path ahead and Evelyn sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she mumbled under her breath. She pulled on Merry’s reins and the elegant creature came to a halt long enough for Evelyn to descend before he began to trot again at her command. She walked ahead of them, holding onto Merry’s reins and steering him carefully back onto the open road. 

As the dense forest cleared from their view, Evelyn could see lights illuminating from clear windows off in the distance. That was it; _The Gallows_ as it liked to call itself. Where the true meaning of the name came from Evelyn hadn’t a clue, but there were rumors that the structure had housed prisoners back in the old age as they awaited execution. Now it was a thriving tavern with an abundance of patrons, and Evelyn hoped to blend into the shadows amongst the crowd. 

“We’re almost there,” she turned around and smiled at the young girl. “We’ll stop here and get some food. Daylight is almost upon us and I’d rather not travel in plain sight. Perhaps we can wait the day out here and set out again tonight. If I’m correct, Arlathan should only be another half a day's ride from here.” Her voice trailed off in thought, but was quickly pulled back at the sound of the girl’s voice.

_“Arlathan! Yes, Arlathan! That’s where you must take me. You must take me home to Arlathan.”_

Evelyn’s smile faded as she watched those big, blue eyes light up with hope. “If only I could understand you, little one.” Silence fell again between them as Evelyn continued pulling the horse and its passenger towards the lively tavern. 

\---

“Aye, missy, wha’ can I git for ya?” 

Evelyn had to mentally remind herself not to make any facial expressions, especially not to scrunch up her nose in disgust at the state of the once clean and prim tavern she had known as a child. It was hard to imagine that Nobles all across Thedas stayed the night here _willingly_.

Despite her repugnance, Evelyn managed to shoot the toothless owner - she assumed the owner part, he was definitely toothless - a small smile. “Do you have any rooms available?” 

His mouth moved loosely as he spoke and his dark eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Aye...for ye and yer-”

“Niece,” she interjected. 

His eyes narrowed, “Aye, I do. It’ll cost ya twenty Andris.”

“Antivan currency?” she quirked an eyebrow. The tavern was on Tevinter soil, close enough to the border of Antiva but still very much Tevinter. 

“Aye, I shit on Tevinter coin,” he spat the words, “I’d sooner take the coin of them dirty, little Elf shits.” 

It was no secret that Tevinter’s economy had taken a plunge since the eradication of the monarchy. Monarchs from neighboring Antiva, Orlais and Ferelden pulled away from the now Kingless country, refusing to trade with the magocracy. As supporters of the Circles, the principles of these countries no longer aligned with that of the Tevinter Magisters who believed mages should not be locked up into towers and governed by Templars or the Chantry. Tevinter coin was worthless outside of Tevinter as no other country would accept the inferior currency.

“I see,” Evelyn pulled her satchel forward, fishing through the contents. It was a blessing that her father traveled all around Thedas for work and often carried currency from each country. It was even more a blessing - the Maker’s will, perhaps - that Evelyn had exactly twenty Andris in the form of two silver coins with the face of the Queen of Antiva melted into them. “Here you are.” She laid down the coins and pulled another from her satchel. “Would you accept Sovereigns for food?”

The man bared his toothless smile as his eyes lit up at the sight of the gold coin. “Aye, _Ferelden money is good money.”_

\--- 

They sat in the corner of the pub, minding their business and doing their best not to draw any attention. The little girl, with a shawl still wrapped around her head and her ears tucked away, ate at a timid pace and Evelyn sensed that she was perhaps uncomfortable with so many humans around. 

She tried her best to smile at the young child. “Eat up. We’ll head to our room afterwards,” she tried to reassure her but it fell on deaf ears. If she had only paid more attention during her Elven lessons…

_“Evelyn?”_

The sound of her name sent her into a panic, fear quickly seizing her body and rendering her immobile. What felt like drawn out eternity passed by and Evelyn hoped, prayed, that it had been a trick of her mind, a play on her ears. But it came again and she knew it was no trick.

“Evelyn, is that you?”

She willed herself to move and face whoever this familiar person was, but her breath hitched at the sight of him. 

“Knight-Captain? What are you doing here?” She could feel the quiver of her hands and quickly hid them under the table, hoping that the young Templar had not taken notice. 

“Please, just call me Rylen,” he insisted, “and I believe I should be asking you that. Why are you all the way out here in Marothius?” Though his voice was light and humorous, it did nothing to ease Evelyn’s nerves. 

“Ah, I-uh, I came to visit my niece,” she gestured to the little elf across the small table. “I haven’t seen my brother in years and thought it was the perfect time to pay them a visit." 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” the Templar replied as he turned his attention to the young girl. “Hi there!” he extended his hand with enthusiasm, “I’m Rylen. What’s your name, beautiful?” She stared at him with petrified blue eyes.

“ _Mina._ She’s mute” Evelyn answered in the girl’s stead and Rylen’s gaze turned back upon her. “The ailment has left her socially inept and her parents rarely let her interact with anyone other than family members. Forgive her, she means no offense. She simply knows no better.” 

The Templar slowly retracted his hand and his smile waned. “No apologies necessary, Miss Evelyn.” He noted the fear in her eyes and the shiver of her body. “I didn’t mean to scare her.” 

“It’s quite alright,” replied Evelyn as she stood from her seat. “She gets like that when she is around people she does not know. It’s not just you, Rylen,” she smiled at the Templar and moved past him. She extended her hand to the little girl and was thankful when the child placed her tiny hand in hers. “We should get going before it becomes too much for her. If you’ll excuse us, Ser Rylen.”

“Of course, my lady,” he bowed slightly, bending at the waist, and watched as the two figures retreated up into the loft. 

\---

Night came again and the two travelers set back out into the darkness. Evelyn made sure that no one roamed about as she pulled Merry and the child back into the depths of the forest. They should reach Arlathan by sunrise and she would not waste any more time on this journey. She would have to make haste upon her return lest the Hammond’s began to worry. She had promised them to be back in three days and one was already gone. 

She mounted the dark-haired horse and wrapped her arms securely around the child in front of her. She dug her heels into the horse's sides, urging the majestic creature to run like the devil was hot on the tracks. 

Rylen had caught her. He was unaware of it yet, but he had caught her. If he were to find out that she indeed had no brother and certainly no niece by blood...she shuddered at the thought. What would happen to her if they found out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the Kudos and lovely comments <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help me, guys. I’m falling hard and fast for another fucking Elf. Zevran will be the death of me...and a possible source of inspiration for a young Fen’Harel...

She had said _yes_. 

The word replayed in his mind the entire day and well into the morning on the next. Perhaps there had even been a little more pep in his step or an everlasting hint of a smile on his lips, but Cullen felt as if he were on top of the moon. If his men had noticed the sudden yet slight change in him they made no mention of it, but he did catch a few lingering eyes on him as if he had grown two heads. 

He chuckled to himself as he looked down, his hand shoved in his pocket and playing around with the little, black velvet box. He had meant to propose with a ring but his resolve faded when he had seen her. She had been exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes adding to her endearing features. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy heap with a few loose, curly strands framing her round face. Her big, brown saucers - as he had always teased her when she was little - lit up at the sight of him, the depleted look in them dissipating as her cheeks took on a rosy color. He could not help himself with the way she looked; shy, vulnerable, timid, exhausted. He wanted to take her in his arms, embrace her and protect her from all the world’s woes. And in that moment he lost himself and the words spilled from his mouth of their own accord. 

He did not regret them. Far from it. The words were spoken from his heart. He had been in her life for most of her existence and this bond that had formed between them felt _natural_. As if they had always been meant for one another. His only regret was not being able to give her the ring the moment she said yes. He had left it at home since he did not plan to propose that morning, but it seemed fate and his heart had made other plans. 

He clutched the box in his gloved hand and took a deep breath as he waited for her to emerge from the kitchen. He would propose again _in front of everyone_. He would do it proper. Get down on his knee in front of his recruits and other guests of the tavern and ask her for her hand in marriage. He would make sure she felt like a princess for this moment and for many more to come. 

His molten amber eyes caught the kitchen door as it swung open and his eyes immediately locked onto the person who had emerged. To his dismay, it was not a bed of messy brown hair or eyes as big as saucers. He recognized the woman, though it was not his Evelyn. It was the farmer’s wife, Aiden’s mother, whose name was escaping him at the moment. 

The woman approached their table and set down a basket filled with bread. She smiled, “ ‘Mornin’ boys. What’ll ye be havin’?” One by one the men gave their orders - mostly eggs - until finally it was his turn. 

“Salted butter and honey, please,” he answered, his expression faltering. He looked past the woman as if expecting Evelyn to come through the door next. “Is Evelyn alright?” Evelyn was always working the kitchen even when sick. He could only recall one time where she had been so ill that she could not even leave her bed. It was shortly after she turned sixteen when she caught a fever that almost claimed her life. Her father had sent for healers from across Thedas but none seemed to help her ailment. She battled the disease for three months before it suddenly disappeared. 

He feared her absence was telling. A sense of foreboding washed over him.

“Oh, yes, Miss Evelyn’s doin’ just fine, Commander. She had some business in Antiva. Something ‘bout important work that she had to do for her father.” The farmer’s wife politely excused herself with a small bow before heading back through the kitchen door. Cullen’s eyes lingered there as the door swung back and forth, losing momentum with each labored swing. He half expected Evelyn to still come through. 

Cullen’s mind raced with questions and assumptions. _Important work for her father? Ser Trevelyan never sent her out to do his bidding before. It seems odd that he would choose to send her to Antiva so suddenly. Why did she not tell me? Why did she not even mention it yesterday?_

“Here ye are,” the voice of the farmer’s wife broke his train of thoughts. She set a plate down in front of him with his order neatly arranged on it: a softened chunk of salted butter and a small cup of wildflower honey. Cullen turned a smile up at the middle-aged woman and thanked her. He took a slice of warm began and began to spread the butter in a thin coat, his mind finally settling on a reasonable explanation.

Perhaps in the excitement of his proposal she had simply forgotten to mention it.

\---

He knew that a trip to Antiva, even on horseback, would take longer than a day. But that did not make the lack of her cheerful smile and jovial brown eyes the next day any less tolerable. He wasn’t sure if her absence was putting him on edge or if it was the fact that she, as his now fiancé, had omitted such important information. 

He ate in silence and was the first one done, which rarely happened. He was usually last, lingering behind to enjoy a certain young maiden’s blushing company. His men were less talkative than usual as well. They took notice of his solemn demeanor and thought it best to keep the jests and stories to a bare minimum until his sour mood ran its course. They watched as he rose from his seat, collecting his sword and other belongings before heading out the front door. 

“Aye, what’s wrong with the Commander?” one of the men asked once the brooding leader was out of earshot. 

Another shrugged, “Ain’t getting enough pussy, if you ask me.” The answer earned him several glares and he adorned a look of utter earnest. “What? Am I wrong? Have you seen him with any women lately? Exactly.” Despite not being around them, it seemed that the Commander’s mood had a lasting effect on the group of Templars. Silence fell among them again as each man ate his food.

Outside, Cullen readied his horse and mounted the creature with one swift movement. Perhaps the situation was getting the best of him and he was letting it affect him more than he should have. But dammit, she was not a child. She was a grown woman who had just promised herself to him less than twenty-four hours ago and already she was lying to him. 

_Forgetting is not the same as lying,_ he tried to reason with himself. But was it not? She knew she would be leaving. His house was but a ten minute ride from the tavern. She could have stopped by shortly to inform him of this sudden trip…

He forced the ill thoughts from his mind. It was no use to dwell on the matter, though they would have to discuss the issue when she returned. 

Settling into the saddle, Cullen tugged on the horse’s reins to steer him out of the stables and out into the road. Off in the distance, Cullen could see another figure on horseback approaching. He recognized the armor and patiently waited as his first-in-command neared at a steady pace.

The dark-haired man saluted him upon arrival, slowing his horse down to a trot next to the Commander. “Ser!”

“Knight-Captain,” Cullen greeted and offered the same salutation. “I trust the issue in Marothius has been dealt with?”

“Yes, ser!” replied the younger Templar. “The apostate has been taken into custody and is currently en route to Minrathous for sentencing. We were able to stop him before he..” The Templar soldier could not finish the words. The sheer thought of what that apostate had been planning was enough to make his blood run cold. “I suppose we were lucky his associate turned on him.”

It was no secret that the mages had been planning rebellions all across Tevinter. Since the Circles were disbanded and mages allowed to roam freely, the workload for the Templars increased by tenfold. It was inevitable that some of the freed mages, still angry and bitter about having been locked up in towers, would revolt and seek justice for their mistreatment while under Templar care.

But to blow up an orphanage full of innocent children was despicable and low, even for the rogue mages. Davan Amatus, the mastermind behind this heinous plot, was betrayed by his associate and fellow accomplice. Livia Brann tipped off local Templar soldiers of the potential threat and those soldiers sent word to the Commander. As his first-in-command, Rylen was sent to investigate and disrupt the attack should it come to pass.

“The Maker was on our side,” Cullen agreed, though he wondered if it was the Maker or the girl’s guilty conscience that compelled her to turn over her partner. “I expect a full report on my desk by morning. I’m sure the Archon will be waiting for the news.” He rolled his golden eyes at the last part, his patience with the mage ruler thinning by the day. 

“Yes, ser!” They rode in comfortable silence towards the training grounds, neither man finding anything useful to talk about until a random thought crossed Rylen’s mind. “I saw Evelyn at The Gallows yesterday.”

Cullen’s head snapped to the side and his eyes studied the man next to him. “ _The Gallows?_ That run-down brothel in Marothius?” Though he had a mind to question Rylen on why he was there, he was more concerned about Evelyn’s intentions at such a improper place. 

“C’mon, Commander,” Rylen chuckled nervously, “it may be a bit shabby, but it’s not a brothel. The women practically give it up for free.” The stern look of the Commander did not ease at Rylen’s jest and the younger Templar quickly searched for words to replace his ill attempt at humor. “Er, yes, she was there. With her niece, in fact. Lovely young girl. Shame that she’s a mute though.” His voice died down with the last sentence, but Cullen still managed to catch his words with some strain on his part. 

“Niece?” he repeated. “You’re mistaken. Are you sure it was even Evelyn?”

“Yes, ser. Even talked to her a bit. Said she was visiting her brother.”

Dread began to seep into Cullen’s gut. Evelyn had no nieces or nephews - she was an only child. She had told the farmer's wife that she had business to attend to in Antiva on her father's behalf but fed Rylen some story about a brother and niece. She was lying to one or both of them, yet he felt more the fool than either. Endless possibilities rushed through his mind yet he could not piece together her true purpose. 

What was Evelyn doing? _What was she up to?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wolf should be appearing in the next chapter or two >:D


End file.
